


My Fossil in the Sun

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Dad Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, M/M, Slow Burn, Young Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, also, but Very Much There, c:, getting caught during a mission and askin urself y does that shimada guys son keep hanging out here, like 500 sufjan stevens references, minor Reaper76, premonitions???, very gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You get weird dreams ever, boss?”Reyes chuckled. “All the time. Curse of the job.”“No, no,” Jesse shook his hand, “Not like, of war, or something, but like-“ the light at the end of the hall flickered, “You ever feel nostalgic for something that never happened?”





	1. Some Kind of Poem

**Author's Note:**

> hi welcome 2 the longest fic that i am guaranteed to complete. thank u to sufjan my father, and late night inspiration. all chapter titles (and fic title) from sufjans Beloved My John because im gay and i like suffering
> 
> completion of each chapters r as follows:  
> 1- 100% of course  
> 2- 100%  
> 3-25%?  
> 4-0% (its plotted tho)
> 
> thanks for reading hope u enjoy slow burn hell

He laughed over his shoulder, hand dragging a strand of inky hair behind his ear, smile directed to his shoulder under the light of the sun through the oak. A blush melted on his cheeks, small dainty lips a similar color, the batting of long dark lashes. He spoke, gaze to his orange silk jacket and the grass covered in spiked leaves, a joke of his own mixed with the crisp burst of sparkling cider and the smell of a pecan pie. Who was he? This boy with the darkest eyes west of the Mississippi, with the faintest spatter of freckles and with clipped down nails. Who was he? The one who had a scar over his right cheek and fingers calloused. Where was he? A hand reached to brush a fallen eyelash and the boy’s attention flicked forward.

.

Jesse startled.

 

White sheets were tangled with his wiry limbs and the cool breath of night. He pulled himself up, hands clasped to his face. Through his fingers Jesse watched the clouds brush past the moon outside the window, a strange and deep pang of nostalgia aching from beneath the pile of pending emotions in his heart. He had once kept a dream journal, still under the bed frame, but the pen had run dry and a seasonal bout of anxiety had left him without much to dream about, without a place for his ego to escape. But that boy- the dream was already fading, the vague memory of smiles and apple cider the only lingering hints of another life.

 

The clock on the desk under the window glowed red, faint LED numbers reading  _ 4:37 _ . Not a bad time to be awake on a military base. He got up.

 

Incandescent yellow lit up the halls as he trudged through in his new boots. Jesse yawned with all his might, not caring if neighbors would wake up and attack him for nighttime crawling. Like he cared, with only three quarter hours to morning- to a new mission- he was anxious. Reyes had warned him of its importance, he’d be attending not only Reyes, but Morrison on a diplomatic mission to learn- some part of him wondered if Reyes meant for him to take his place should the time come. But “diplomatic mission” sounded less like a high-stakes Blackwatch call and more like a “Jesse learns to shut up” outing. At least he’d be traveling somewhere new.

 

Jesse had heard Japan was lovely this time of year.

 

“Awake so soon?” Alone, in the half lit dining hall, was Captain Reyes, dressed in full uniform and nursing a cup of coffee, tablet in hand. “Pre-mission jitters?”

 

Jesse shrugged, going for the same coffee Reyes had, “Yeah, something like that.”

 

“Only a diplomatic mission,  _ mijo _ \- thought you knew that.” His eyes followed Jesse as he came back to the grey bench and slid in, fresh coffee hot and fragrant. The best stuff was always gone by the time he normally woke up.

 

He bit his lip. “You get weird dreams ever, boss?”

 

Reyes chuckled. “All the time. Curse of the job.”

 

“No, no,” Jesse shook his hand, “Not like, of war, or something, but like-“ the light at the end of the hall flickered, “You ever feel nostalgic for something that never happened?” He brought the mug to his lips, eyes wandering anywhere but Reyes, “I dunno, maybe that’s just me.”

 

“Hm,” the captain hummed. “I see what you’re saying.” Jesse looked back to him to find a soft grin, “I think everyone feels that way at some point. Or maybe you’re having premonitions.” Reyes’s hand fell on Jesse’s head, ruffling his hair. “You need a trim, boy, you’re looking like a gang member.” Jesse laughed.

 

“And you’re looking like an old man, old man.” He said, prying the captain’s hand off him.

Reyes retreated with a roll of his eyes. “Well, well, you got me,” he stood up, swinging one leg over the bench, “I’m an elderly man and you smell like shit, go wash up and get breakfast, we leave at oh seven hundred.”

 

“Right.” Jesse sipped the hot coffee, smiling down as Reyes passed through the doors flying shut behind him.

The flight to the Overwatch compound took less than an hour- but the scenery was gorgeous. Out of New Mexico and the southwest were miles upon miles of every type of biome that Jesse still had a hard time believing existed. Fall- a subtle season in Santa Fe- was in full bloom towards the Appalachians. Acres of red and orange and yellow swept below them, a fascinating whirlwind of deciduous trees ready for winter burst from the map. Jesse heard a familiar snicker behind him as he plastered his face to the window.

Morrison greeted them with a smile, hugging Jesse and then Reyes with an unusual mirth. They chatted about new recruits and buildings popping up in Canada- having only recently agreed to Overwatch’s involvement in their territory. Jesse slouched back in his chair and watched the landscape turn from bright colors to snow- heading quickly over Alaska and the Bering Strait through Russia and the beginning of several hours of ocean- his eyes falling heavy down.

“Agent McCree.” Morrison woke him, “We have around thirty minutes until touchdown- you haven’t been briefed, yet, correct?”

“Huh- yes, correct.” Jesse blinked awake, sitting up to Morrison looking over Reyes’s empty seat. “I’m just accompanying you to a diplomatic meeting- turf business- and trying to learn, right?”

Morrison nodded, “In essence. Ground rules, though. We are meeting with a prominent crime family- one that not only has business within Japan- but in America as well. We are enemies, but Overwatch must work with them to make sure we are not attacked while performing operations in Japan.” He nodded once, eyes set on Jesse’s. “Do you understand?”

“Yessir.” Jesse acknowledged. “Sounds simple.”

Morrison’s eyebrows raised momentarily as he shook his head and leaned back in his chair. Reyes passed over and sat back down, stretching like a cat into his personal space. “C’mon, Jack.” He said, pretending to yawn and reach his arm around him, pulling him into a headlock. Jack laughed and pulled away- Jesse felt oddly at home.

“What’s the name of the crime family?” he asked. Reyes looked over, grin still lopsided.

“Shimada-gumi, though I’d suggest you just don’t try with the naming conventions, if you don’t want to offend anybody.”

Jesse slid to the back of his seat, “Gotcha, I’ll try, captain.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Jesse kept behind Reyes like he was some kind of body-shield. Morrison walked next to him- the clean blue vibrant against black and gray. Reyes had left his beanie back in the jet- Jesse held his hat in his hands.

Several men in sharp suits led them through the long stretches of hallways- paper walls and dark hardwood floors abundant in the palace (No one had told Jesse it would be a  _ palace _ ). It had been an interesting ride into town- the streets quiet, though still alive. Hanamura was the kind of town Jesse thought he would enjoy spending time at, but would never want to live in. It was lined with buildings that had windows into restaurants, bakeries, the like. Night club looking places and a rather large arcade were- surprisingly- only minutes from the castle’s gates. The juxtaposition between the two only made the regal courtyards and gardens encased by wings and balconies so much more grandiose.

“ _ No te preocupes, Jessito. _ ” Reyes spoke, looking ahead. Jesse had barely noticed his shoulders had grown so tense. He took a deep breath and dispelled it- the worry, the beast in his chest; they had come to the end of the hall.

Two large doors were pushed open to frame a new room. Where Jesse had expected a business meeting with rolling chairs and a long table, they entered a mostly empty room, save for the men kneeled before them in a crescent row, all on cushions- black and embroidered. Jesse counted seven, all in Japanese formalwear.

The suited men led them to several white cushions, each with a dragon emblem in red thread. Jesse knelt down, a vague sense of terror welling up in him. Morrison had sat in the center, with Reyes on his right and Jesse on his left. If only Reyes had taken the center. Far in the back of the room, but directly in front of him, behind the imposing figures, was a huge scroll- almost seven feet in height. It read something in black ink, crowning the man before it. He had a sharp jaw and handsomely cut beard- terrifying. Surrounding him were men of considerable age, all with their own attributes that Jesse wanted less time to get to know. The only one there under thirty- beside himself- was a boy who sat at the center man’s right side. He wore a black robe- like the rest- but wore a green ribbon in his hair. With the same sharp features as the center man, Jesse wondered if they were related. The boy’s eyes met Jesse- he shuddered.

“The Shimada family welcomes Overwatch and Blackwatch into Hanamura. It is an honor to house the finest soldiers in the world.” One of the suited men spoke. The small counsel bowed- out of the corner of his eye he saw Morrison and Reyes repeat the motion- he quickly bowed himself.

“It is gracious of the Shimada-gumi to allow us into their home, we thank you.” Morrison spoke.

The silence in the room had hardly been cut off when the man in the center spoke, “Let us put pleasantries aside, Commander Morrison, Captain Reyes, and-?”

“Agent McCree.” Reyes answered. How he answered without hesitation felled Jesse. He watched the center man’s eyes resist looking towards him. His son gave him another glance, almost sizing him up. Jesse found he would rather have been anywhere but in that room, under the pressure of so many dangerous men- including Reyes and Morrison.

“Yes, now, your men would like freedom to act within our borders. What are your terms?” he spoke, eyes set on Morrison, mouth slack but demanding.

“We wish to continue operations against terrorist groups, such as Talon, within the Shimada-gumi territory without the need to reinstate permission, your lordship.”

Lordship, the center man nodded- he must have been Shimada himself. One of the men spoke to him in Japanese, his son frowning at his words. Shimada spoke two short words before the man who had piped up settled down. He looked to Morrison- he seemed unfazed. How many meetings had he been to that went exactly like this?

“You have broughten a document that contains more guidelines than that, surely, Commander Morrison?” The man who had spoken up said.

Morrison nodded, “It has been connected to you by Overwatch at ten-thirty this morning. We have a physical copy, however, if you wish.”

Shimada nodded, and Morrison looked to Jesse. He bit down on his lip and procured the document from his hat in his hand. Standing up, he walked to Shimada and bowed, holding it out stretched. Jesse walked to his seat in a hurry and sat down, Shimada’s son giving him a look. Had he done something wrong? Morrison had begun to speak again, about laws and pardons, Reyes was picking apart the men with his eyes, and Jesse was lost. His eyes landed on Shimada’s son again. In not even a split second decision, he winked. Before his eyelid came back up- he knew he had done something horrendous. He looked around to make sure no one had saw it, the boy’s gaze was now fixed somewhere above Morrison, eyes hard.

“Agent McCree? You are a member of Blackwatch, can you not describe how it is stealth missions operate?” Morrison said with more force than usual. Jesse flinched- he knew he had repeated himself.

“Stealth, yes. Blackwatch agents are not  _ known  _ for their stealth, but that’s important. We get underestimated- and bam!” Jesse’s hands went in the air, “We’re in there with people expectin’ a summer snowstorm’d come before us. I doubt I’ve ever gotten a civilian involved- let alone been in a mission rowdy enough to get them to notice us.” He said with a decisive nod. Morrison seemed pleased.

Shimada’s head turned slower than humanly possible to his son, mentioning something in Japanese before asking, “What do you think, Hanzo?”

Hanzo.

Jesse blinked. He could go for an apple cider.

“I believe the Blackwatch agent likes his metaphors,” he spoke, “But is otherwise trustworthy.”

Reyes’s posture shifted, a faint smile in his eyes. Shimada seemed to mirror the look, speaking with his men again before clearing his throat and beginning in English, “I agree. I believe an absence of Talon will be mutually beneficial. If you have said all you need to, my men will escort you off of the premises.”

“Yes, that is all.” Morrison said, “Thank you, Shimada-san.” He bowed to the floor. Reyes bent and Jesse copied his motion. “Your generosity will not go unnoticed.”

The suited men stepped forward, Morrison rising to his feet.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Shimada spoke, making Jesse sit back down where he had tried to get up. “Our only request is that you do not seek trouble while you are here this weekend. No bullets lost.”

Morrison bowed, “Of course. We are here as diplomats today, not soldiers.”

“Very good,” he said with a nod. Jesse clambered up and waited for Morrison and Reyes to follow the suited men. He gave one last look at the room- at Hanzo, gazing away in thought towards the window in the left of the room. He had a small knick on his cheek, like from a fight or a misdrawn bowstring.

“Let’s go.” Reyes spoke, snapping him awake. They left through an alternate exit and were given time to slip their shoes on.

Outside was cold- cooler than it had been as the evening settled over the city. Reyes yawned and gave Jesse a pat on the back, “You learn anything, yet?” He asked.

Clouds bustled above the skyline, deep and purple, streaks of red and orange hanging low as the sun nestled behind the buildings and their sloped roofs. Neon lights flickered on, the street lights glowing over the three as they passed under. Jesse thought back to the room and its tangible tension. He had hardly left the US more than twice, still located at the base he had been recruited in, only finding his way to the old British colony, Gibraltar, and the head American base at DC- being somewhere he couldn’t speak anything near the language and speaking- not his strong suit- was anything but comfortable. “Those men were scary, and I’ve met a lot of scary men.” Jesse said with a shrug.

Reyes stifled a laugh, “Yeah, they are pretty nasty looking- wouldn’t speak too ill of them before we get out of here, though.”

“Why?”

Reyes wrapped an arm around his shoulder, looking out into the crowd. People of every walk of life filled the streets, the old, the young, the rich, the poor. Between the seams of everyday people with places to be were men in sharp black suits, sunglasses to match. If Jesse’d blink, he would miss them. They were so unhidden that spotting them was difficult. “Where’s Waldo?” Reyes asked. Morrison huffed.

“You shouldn’t be scared, Agent McCree, we’ll be out of here soon.” While Jesse and Reyes in their dark layered clothing blended into the crowd- much like the likely Shimada men, Morrison’s blue uniform hit against the fashion. Eyes followed his proud posture and sun blonde hair.

Reyes let go of Jesse, hand clasping Morrison’s shoulder instead, “But before that, let’s get some dinner.”

“In these outfits?” Jesse asked. This time Reyes let himself laugh, his smile brightening the streets. Jesse mirrored his grin with his own- even Morrison’s lips turned up.

“Always the fashion minded. That’s my boy.”

Jesse blushed. It was the cold.


	2. Covered in Lines,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u r confused by things happening in this chapter..... much of it will b explained chapter 3 so hold onto ur britches
> 
> also bc of events of. last week. i havent been able to get a lot done for chapter 3 so its going 2 come out when it comes out (but it def will) thanks!!

The hot soup burnt the roof of his mouth, teeth clattering against the black pottery dish. Jesse set it back down, reaching for a glass of water to finish off the pain. Reyes leaned back in his chair, loose smile on his lips and empty plates before him. Morrison laughed quietly at his phone, bumping into Reyes to show him a text message.

“Angie found strays at the Swiss base.” Morrison pinched at the image of Reinhardt with an overflowing handful of kittens, tears welling up in his eyes. Jesse grabbed the phone, Jack exclaiming, “Hey!” but not reaching for it.

“Looks like we’ve got some new recruits.” Reyes said, watching over Jesse’s shoulder as he texted the picture to himself.

“Aw, you gotta tell her that, Commander.” Jesse said, handing the phone back. Jack shook his head and shut off the screen, shoving it in his jacket pocket. One free day in Hanamura before the jet touched down to bring them home. Lunch was in a small restaurant on the opposite side of town, in an open air table with the a creek running behind the building and rather quiet streets.

A waiter left a check at their table, Reyes filling it out as Jack finished his sandwich. “Jack, you really flew four thousand miles for a sandwich I could have made back at the base?” Reyes shook his head, “And an eleven dollar one at that? You’re ridiculous.”

Morrison shrugged. “Low maintenance.” He replied. Reyes scoffed.

“Low maintenance my ass.” He handed the black book to the waiter, “ _ Arigato gozaimasu-  _ half of the Overwatch budget is spent on your hair products alone. _ ” _

__

Jack rolled his eyes, “At least  _ I _ know how to budget.”

“So,” Jesse barged in, slapping hands on the table, “We’re free to do whatever today?” Gabe and Jack looked at him.

“Yes, as long as ‘whatever’ means not shooting anything,” Morrison said easily.

“That’s the only rule?” Jesse asked. Reyes nodded, “Sweet, I can do that.”

Jack gave him a look, eyebrows rising into his scalp. He did have nice hair. Reyes shoved him and got up, pushing the chair in behind him and rolling his shoulders back. “You have any plans then, McCree?” he asked.

Jesse shrugged, “They have a pretty impressive arcade-“

“Let me rephrase that, you have any money, then, Jesse?”

_ Jesse _ ? Oh, gosh. Morrison smiled as Jesse’s face dropped. Reyes laughed and elbowed him, “Just kidding,  _ mijo _ , sure, why not go to an arcade, as long as the commander here doesn’t think it’ll rot your brains.”

“I think the boy’s smoking habits will do that first.” Jack quipped.

“That’s not even scientifically accurate!” Jesse whined, hands thrown in the air. They exited the short gated patio for the sidewalk, twisting their way back into the main stretch of life in the city. As the sound of the creek died, cars and the bustle of life replaced it threefold. Jesse tipped his hat to an old woman who waved at him and several business men who looked rather amused. Even in plainclothes, they must had been a sight to behold.

Jesse zipped up his red jacket and nuzzled his face into his similarly colored bandana. His mind wandered back to the day before- the men in the in betweens of the street, filling in his peripheral vision, always there. How did people live here with that presence? Maybe it was similar to what he had back in New Mexico with the Deadlock, but nothing to the same degree. Two years ago- fresh after defecting- he had been sent a picture of his mother in the mail. He had dropped the letter in the middle of the hallway and froze up- how did they know he was there? All around him soldiers were walking, passing through, never staying for more than a few months before being shipped off to somewhere else. If Jesse was ex-deadlock, couldn’t someone else have been? Reyes had grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into his office, away from the photo, away from the crowd. It had been years since he had broken down. But it was hard to be a gang’s protégée and not.

The boy.

Who was he? No, Jesse knew who he was. He had been named, Hanzo- or Shimada-san, if he was correct. Reyes had been right to not try unless spoken to directly. But how was he? He looked so conditioned, fierce, decisive. Did he see the men in between the lines? How could he not. But it was presumptuous of Jesse to make up a character for someone who had spoken a whole of one sentence- not even to him- but to his bosses. Some part of him wanted to see for himself, the other, more reasonable half, decided anything that had to do with getting closer to the Shimada clan was, plain and simple, a bad idea.

A hand touched his back and he blinked out of his thoughts. Reyes caught his eyes and nodded towards a bookshop. They were coming close to the palace again, only two or three blocks from the main gates. “Not to treat you like a child, or anything,” Reyes said, “But if you get separated from us, meet back here.”

“I have a phone, you know.” Jesse said, pulling it out of his pocket.

Reyes shrugged, “Better safe than sorry.”

Morrison rolled his eyes- he rolled them an awful lot. “If I got lost, the last thing I’d miss would be that expression.” Jesse said, stepping in the front of them. He heard Morrison gawk at the statement, Reyes wheezing with laughter.

“God, the boy told you,”

Jesse smiled to himself. Tomorrow he’d be in a jet flying back home to tell his friends about his weekend- how he had brushed with the head commander of Overwatch and was allowed to live.

 

The sky had turned purple, low clouds drifted west into the darkening border of the city. After years of fighting without rest- a day to sit back and enjoy a new city was beyond amazing. Reyes and Morrison were walking ahead of him, warm from dinner and ready to drop into bed for twelve hours. Jesse found that although their being sappy was rather gross, it felt natural. Like parents. Jesse looked around at the street, people walking home or to dinner. Like parents.  It had been a good day, but he was homesick. Reyes’s head jerked off Morrison’s shoulder. They stopped.

He typed something into the touch-screen watch on his wrist, looking around them, towards the rooftops. Morrison unlinked his arm and nodded Jesse to them, eyebrows pulled down, “Over here.”

“Somethin’ wrong?” Jesse asked, looking over at Reyes’s watch.

The captain flashed a look at Morrison, some kind of code Jesse couldn’t decipher. Jack must have answered back, as Reyes grabbed Jesse’s wrist and began moving, Morrison close behind.

“Where’re we going?” Jesse whispered as they nearly ran off the street into a series of under-lit roads, passing apartment after building of nothing.

“The hotel. We can’t be in the area.”

“Why?” Jesse asked.

Reyes glanced at him, a new look on his face. His eyes were wide- but not in a surprised way, tense. “Talon.”

“Oh, gosh.”

They broke into a sprint. With the name in his head, all Jesse could think about was how uncanny the alleys looked and how amazing the idea to turn into more deserted ones was. But Reyes had a plan, didn’t he? They’d either get out quick or get in quick, solve it, and be out. No one would ever know. A shot rang out.

Morrison reached for a gun- Reyes slapped his hand with a shake of his head. Jack bit his lip and stepped back, “I hate running.”

“Doesn’t matter now,  _ chico _ , we’re running.”

They split into a parallel street, Jesse’s heart raced. Talon was one thing, not seeing them? That was another. “Why’re they here?”

“Intel says they were spotted the street over from where we were, robbing some bank.”

“We need to stop them!”

“No,” Reyes growled, “What we need to do is get out of here. You wanna destroy Overwatch’s involvement in Japan? Huh?”

Jesse looked down, “No, sir.”

Another gunshot rang out, closer, but still not on the same street. The streetlamps flickered under the blackening sky. Jesse and Reyes paused, “Oh, God.” Reyes said, hand over his mouth. He looked both ways down the alley, “Where’s Jack?”

Jesse stepped towards where they had come from, but backtracked, the alley came to an end. The buildings went up a few floors each, above the hiss of traffic and the eyes of civilians. Jesse’s eyes flashed back and forth for an idea, halting at a fire escape. He ran past the captain and jumped- grappling to the dangling ladder and hoisting himself up the four feet, Reyes yelping as Jesse pulled himself across the height of the building. At the top, he rolled himself over the ledge into the roof, panting as he stood up and looked over, Reyes rocking the ladder as he climbed up.

Jesse ran to the opposite side of the building and looked off. The alleys and streets had been cleared, distant screaming with the absence of sirens blew a chill up his spine. He followed the edge of the building, around and around, looking for some kind of answer to where Jack could have gone. He looked to the building to their right- a taller office building. On the ledge was a man in an army-styled black suit. He was perfectly still- a statue, hardly visible in the night without squinting. Gabe hauled over onto the roof, followed by a bang.

Breath escaped him. He looked at Gabe, unhurt, then back at his own chest, again, unhurt. The man on the building had fired in the opposite direction- and then again, followed by the unmistakable squelch of human blood. Reyes’s face paled, eye wide and mouth wrenched in acute horror. He bolted across the roof and jumped onto the next building’s fire escape, swinging over the ledge and kicking the suited man down. Several cars screeched down on the street, all polished shiny black and filled with men that looked far too close to the ones they had seen at the palace to be good news.

One in sunglasses spoke to a tall man. He stepped forward, revealing a teenage boy, and made eye contact with Jesse. His skin crawled, every inch prickling like gooseflesh- he had to get out of here. Motioning back, about to run for the next building and meet up with Reyes and hopefully Jack, he pressed into the barrel of a gun.

“Talon?” Jesse asked, trying to breathe.

The man said nothing. If he could duck fast enough to kick him, he could grab the man’s gun and be out of there before he noticed anything had happened, but he didn’t like his odds. “Not a talker?” he said with a nervous grin. His ankle slid back a fraction of an inch, ready to spin-

“Jesse!”  _ BANG. _

Suddenly, there was an absence of gun behind him, replaced by labored breathing and clattering on the ground. He looked up to see Reyes in the place of the army-suit who had fallen, turned again and shooting at something he couldn’t see. Jesse’s eyes slid down to the heaving chest of the Talon agent, blood welling up at his shoulder and pooling beneath him. He would die soon. Voices on the street rose and Jesse’s heart began racing. His vision shook as he stepped past the body, missing a step and almost falling to his knees. The streets lamps had shut off and the clouds had blocked off the moon and stars. Jesse jumped to the next building, away from where Reyes and likely Morrison were.

“Overwatch agent!” a voice called in a heavy accent. Jesse froze in his place, at the edge of the roof. His hand had clasped to the holster with his gun. “Turn around!”

“So, you guys can speak now?” Jesse said. He counted down in his head- to when he’d turn and deadeye whoever was following him. It didn’t matter now, anyways.

_ Three _ .

The wind curled through the trees on the streets below- through Jesse’s hair.

_ Two. _

Jesse sent a silent prayer to whatever saint was watching him through the clouds.

_ One. _

__

He stilled his breathing.

_ Go! _

Jesse pivoted on one leg and fired six shots, hitting down eight men and wounding on more, two behind them struck him three times- all dead in his chest. He choked out a cry as he stepped back- underestimating the space between the roof and the five story drop into the alley. One more shot as he disappeared down the drop was to his metal hand- sending his gun flying. “Shit!” he screamed, his heart beating out of his throat and stomach melting.   

Falling didn’t feel like slow motion. No matter what every action movie and fast-paced novel had told him, falling fifty feet unsuspended felt like dying and being born and dying again. Had he been down this alley before? Would he die? Would he live long enough to smell the rot of organics from the dumpster he could smell? Would he snap in half as he hit the edge of it? Would he-  _ crack. _

The clouds had cleared a little, the stars twinkled through the stench of old food and something that could not be anything but gored flesh. Maybe that was him?

High-lights cut through the darkness and Jesse groaned- his vision spotting and purpling as the sound of men speaking in low Japanese filled his ears with ringing. This was it, wasn’t it? How long would it take for Reyes to find his body- shock on his face. He would be angry- he’d botch the relationship with the Shimada-gumi even more than it already had failed- too many shots- too many bullets. Morrison, he’d- he’d- Jesse didn’t know what he’d do.  He wondered what he’d look like in a casket- wondered what the Shimada would think of him- what would that boy think? Shimada’s son? Would he ever hear? At least Overwatch would go on without him, even if Angie’d cry and Ana would kill some men. At least he knew he was well loved- what a great comfort in such a short time.

His ears were full of blood. He could hear his heartbeat slow.

 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.


End file.
